


sous le soleil

by dormant_bender



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Banter, Bisexual Male Character, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Established Relationship, Euro 2016, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Massage, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Shameless Smut, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7132739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>olivier lacks shame, antoine doesn't.</p><p>somehow they're still quite the pair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sous le soleil

**Author's Note:**

> sooo~ a lovely anon requested this, and i aim to please, so..
> 
> here it is ? i don't really know much about giroud honestly, but i hope i did okay ? :p 
> 
> (( also: i literally just wrote this, it's 11:40-ish now, so yeah. i'll edit in the morn. xx ))

    Youth was a beautiful thing.

    More so when it involved young talent currently splayed out across a chair, letting the sweltering heat tan fair-skin.

    June in France was arguably his favorite time of the year; the sun was high in the sky, the heat was a welcome change from the usual chill of the air, and the sights. Oh, yes, the sights in particular. Dark shades shield cerulean hues from the fervent rays of the sun above as he strolls toward where another chair is located near the pool area, plopping down, an amused grin tugging at his lips.

    On the chair rests a fellow Frenchman, arms crossed neatly beneath his head, lips in a straight yet contented line. But there's no sign of acknowledgement, no, not even a crack of the eye as he sits there. Lips twitch downward into a small frown, eyes trailing from that peaceful-looking face down the length of his body to stare appreciatively at the curve of his ass, the upward twitch of his lips returning a moment later.

    So he leans forward to brush the very tips of his fingers along the smooth skin of the younger's upper arm, the brunet startling and releasing a soft squeak. Pretty blues blink open, almost immediately clenching shut once the sun's rays become apparent, though his lips finally twist into a small and welcoming smile.

    "How long have you even been there?" inquires the brunet as he shifts until he's propped up on his elbows, resting his chin within his hands. 

    Olivier shrugs a nonchalant shoulder, leaning back with palms flat against the chair, offering a grin. "Not long, just enjoying the view." Once more eyes find themselves flickering back toward the enticing curve of the younger's ass, firm and plump, fitting nicely in the tiny swim shorts he adorns.

    A single brow quirks in response, eyes narrowing slightly, as he regards the elder. "This is the third time I've had to remind you to not stare so openly at my ass," lips purse into a firm line: "there are people around, taking pictures, you don't want that kind of attention, do you?"

    "I, unlike you, don't care all that much." states the man as he stares fondly into those pretty blues, head canting to the side. "So what if there's a few gay rumors floating about, it's not like I haven't heard it all before. It's not completely untrue either."

    Antoine releases a soft groan in response, running short digits through his locks. "Do you really lack that much shame, Oli?"

    "Shame I do lack," teases the elder male as he reaches absently for the sunscreen that was laying sideways near the latter's chair, snatching it up, then shaking it. "Now lay back down so I can lotion you up, you're starting to get a little red. We don't want that, do we?"

    More intrigued than anything, the brunet reluctantly obliges, laying flat against the chair once more. Eyes watch in narrowed scrutiny as the man leisurely abandons the chair in favor of seating himself near the very edge of his own. He watches as the man squirts a dollop of the coconut-scented sunscreen into his hands, rubbing the pasty white lotion together, before finally those hands grace his flushed and warm back.

    Almost immediately he releases a glorified sigh at the feeling of those considerably cooler hands ghosting along the smooth skin of his back, applying an ounce of more pressure, pads of fingers massaging into the tense muscles. He rests his head within his hands once more, allowing himself to relax, rolling back his shoulder blades as he does so.

    "Cela sent si bon," breathes the Frenchman as he unconsciously arches his back in favor of large hands that continue to stroke him.

    "Yeah?"

    "Fuck yeah."

    Smugness overwhelms the older man, working his hands lower where the dip of the younger's back was located, fingers pressing into the firm muscle there. The low moan he receives is rewarding, can feel the familiar twitch of his cock within his shorts, has to halt the movement of his hands for a moment in an attempt to focus on the task at hand.

    "Don't freak out," warns the elder.

    "What are you doing?"

    "Just be quiet, you'll like it. I promise."

    "I swear if you—Merde.."

    All further protests die on thin pink lips once the man straddles the younger's back. Apparently the younger doesn't mind the added weight—if the lack of complaints are anything to go by—and that in itself is a small victory. Hands continue to work the tense muscles near the younger's shoulder blades, the male unconsciously wriggling beneath him, unintentionally rubbing the back of his ass against Giroud's front.

    Not that he minds it, no, more or less encourages it. He hears a sharp gasp echo from beneath him but the realization only seems to spur the younger on to continue the unabashed writhing. So much so that Olivier has to reach for Antoine's hips, steadying him and holding him firm, even offering a scolding smack to his clothed ass.

    Another gasp echoes from the younger, and Olivier can see the scarlet flush that spreads along the length of his back. "Did you like that, little Anto?"'

    The action is repeated, this time the younger pressing his hips back insistently against Olivier's, a low keening noise erupting from his throat. "We can't, not here—there are people around."

    Blues, not too concerned with onlookers, glances about the secluded pool area and finds no one near the general vicinity and can only shrug a shoulder. "No one's around, just stay quiet."

    "Oli—"

    "Shut up and trust me."

    "Don't make me regret this?"

    "We'll see."

    Once more hands are pressing into the muscles of his back until they eventually loosen, the younger releasing an outstretched sigh at the lack of tension there. Even if there was more tension present now, between them, but not entirely un-welcomed. Nimble fingers hook playfully in the band of the younger's shorts, tugging them back, then releasing them so they smack back to redden the otherwise pale skin of Antoine's ass.

    "A-ah." He glances back over his shoulder, eyes wide and pleading. "Can we go somewhere else? I'm all for you seducing me in public, but I don't feel like giving anyone a show. Not now, at least. Those old ladies were eyeing us earlier and I don't want to be responsible for any heart attacks."

    Amusement resonates within darkening hues as the Frenchman reluctantly climbs from his position, reaching out a hand to the younger, tugging him to his feet. "How about hitting up the showers then? Maybe go back to the room after?"

    But Antoine doesn't respond, just grabs onto the elder's hand, eyes glancing back to survey the considerably large bulge that has formed within his shorts. All too eager, he is, as he hurries his pace. Once he manages to open the door, he immediately shuts it, shoving Olivier against it once it clicks closed. Stunned yet unbearably aroused by the sudden turn of events, the elder can only grin, the smile quickly disappearing once a pair of lips are pressing into his own.

    He makes a muffled noise at the back of his throat, one that Antoine can only inwardly chuckle at, small hands frantically seeking out any inch of exposed skin he could find. Short digits are occupied with toying with rosy nipples, tweaking them, offering them harsh pinches that make Olivier nearly melt into the kiss as he sinks teeth into Antoine's lower lip, offering it a rough tug.

    Larger hands go straight to Antoine's waist, tugging him closer toward his body, one hand remaining on his waist while the other delves beneath the thin, dark blue material of his swim shorts. One pale globe occupies the entirety of his hand, the man moaning into the kiss at the firm softness beneath his palm, kneading it enthusiastically.

    Antoine breaks the kiss then to offer a stuttered moan, burying his face within Olivier's neck, fingers clenching into the flesh of his back to create tiny crescents. Breathy French is spluttered into his tanned neck, lips peppering open-mouthed kisses, teeth nipping eagerly at the prickly skin at his neck. Olivier hums to himself, maneuvering his other hand to join the one within his shorts, squeezing both globes tightly and pressing his hips forcefully forward to collide with his own.

    "You've wanted this for a while, yeah?" teases the elder in a low, raspy tone that he doesn't recognize as his own. But Antoine continues to desperately nip at the skin of his neck, offering one hard bite in particular, one that sends Olivier's hips bucking against the younger's: "Answer me, right now."

    Soft whimpers echo from the younger as he tilts upon his tip toes to capture those lips once more but to no avail, instead he's met with the elder's cheek, so he mouths at it. "I-I have, yeah. Okay? J-just don't stop, not now. Or I swear—"

    "—What? You'll do what? Enlighten me?"

    All he receives is an aggravated growl in response from the younger as he grips onto the elder's jaw, forcing his face forward, so he can capture those lips in another searing kiss that leaves them both breathless and panting. "Touch me," manages Antoine between desperate pecks as he abandons a hand on Olivier's cheek to awkwardly tug down the tiny shorts he wears, receiving swift help from the older Frenchman. 

    "So needy," scolds the elder male as he eagerly obliges to tug them as far as he can manage considering their flushed stance. He snakes a hand between their bodies to lazily stroke Antoine's cock, up and down, up and down, until he releases a groan. "Do you want my hand or—?"

    Antoine noisily swallows as he presses his forehead against Olivier's, taking a moment to collect both his breath as well as his thoughts. "I want—no, I _need_ —for you to turn me over and fuck me. Right now. No more games."

    "What happened to foreplay, mon petit?" 

    Another exasperated sound echoes from the younger, one that has the elder chuckling darkly as he switches positions, pressing the brunet against the smooth coolness of the door. Hands are splayed near his head, sweaty palms sliding along the surface of the door, head canting to cast a glance over his shoulder. For a considerate moment Olivier pauses, tugs the short down to his ankles, then admires the glorious sight of the roundness of Antoine's ass.

    It was a work of art; something that was chiseled and deserved a spot in the grandest of museums.

    But he can't muse that thought now though, not with the salacious look he's receiving. He hurries out of his own shorts and wraps an experienced hand around his own cock, stroking himself to the beautiful sight of Antoine's ass, the way his legs are spread and ready for him, how his chest is rising and falling against the support of the door.

    And, yeah, he couldn't take it any longer. Couldn't resist the siren's call of the tight heat that would soon welcome him home. So he takes another moment to stroke himself, using the pre-cum that gathers at the tip as makeshift lube, spreading it along every thick inch of his cock before steadily guiding himself toward the latter's entrance.

    At first he's met with initial tenseness that manages to let up a moment later, easily sliding into the slick and snug heat of Antoine. Both release a communal groan at the sensation; one at being encased in such delicious heat while the other revels in the sensation of being completely filled to the brim. Olivier presses his chest flush against the younger's back, teeth tugging at Antoine's earlobe, as he shifts his hips back before thrusting them forward.

    "I'm not a doll, Oli." lowly murmurs Antoine as he reaches back to tangle his digits within dark locks, tugging on them insistently.

    Olivier ghosts his lips along the younger's teasingly, lets them linger a moment. "I could break you," he breathes against those reddened lips, finally allowing their mouths to meet once more.

    Hands remain firm on hips as he moves his lower half in a learned rhythm, fucking him with slow and languid strokes that leave him panting and breathlessly uttering Olivier's name. Those toned legs spread even further, allowing Olivier's cock to sink deeper into the welcoming tightness. It takes every ounce of strength he could muster not to mercilessly pound into the younger, but he can't hold out any longer, and does just that.

    Ivory teeth sink into Antoine's lower lip, silencing any sounds that would threaten to echo from his own mouth, as he arches his back then snaps his hips forward sending his cock surging deeply to the hilt. An elated and sharp gasp echoes from the younger as the action is repeated once, twice, thrice until he finds his hips jerking backward to meet the thrusts halfway.

    Like that the two work up momentum that leave them both nearly breathless and drenched with sweat, bodies writhing slick against the other, the only sound echoing throughout the empty shower room being the sharp skin slapping against skin. Olivier feels hot all around, can feel his senses heightening, even as he moves a hand upward to tug on Antoine's head until it snaps back against his shoulder.

    He uses it to his advantage to savagely attack every inch of skin at his jugular, nipping and sucking, whispering sweet nothing's that are near deafening to the petite Frenchman. Then he maneuvers a hand to his front, hand stroking his thick cock at a hurried pace that matched the speed of his thrusts, thumb brushing tenderly over the slit that dribbles hefty with pre-cum.

    "Gonna c-cum," croaks out the Frenchman who clenches his eyes tightly shut as he struggles to hang on to the remaining ounce of sanity he has left.

    But Olivier wasn't having any of that, no, and instead withdraws almost completely from the younger's petite frame then offers a measured and precise as well as powerful thrust that leaves the brunet a weeping mess within his arms, whimpering about how he can't take it but yet needs more of the thickness that only continues to well and pulse within his tight heat.

    And Olivier is struggling himself as he attempts to continue with the measured thrusts that lead to instead seeking out that special spot that would certainly leave the Frenchman crying out in indiscernible French. After a few tries he manages to accomplish that goal, can feel the steady clenching of Antoine's inner walls around him, so he mercilessly pounds the spot without abandon.

    So much so that Antoine chokes on a moan and begins to tremble within arms, spurts of ivory white shooting from his cock to stain the door in front of him. Clench. Un-clench. Clench. And his body remains tightly clenched on his cock, surrounding him in snug tightness, the sensation far too overwhelming as he, too, is pushed over the great precipice of bliss until bites down onto Antoine's shoulder and releases deep within him with jerky, sporadic movements of his hips.

    "Such a good boy," rasps the older male as he peppers open-mouthed kisses along every inch of exposed skin he could manage to find in his haze, hips still continuing to buck unceremoniously into the tightness that still surrounds him. "Mon petit," Olivier coos as he lazily strokes Antoine's cock until he's entirely spent, ivory stream halting altogether.

    Antoine collapses back against the firmness of his body, not that Olivier minds at all, too drowsy to even complain at that point. Instead he offers a soft chuckle as he cradles the man to his body, hand releasing the younger's cock, smearing the cloudy substance against Antoine's abdomen. He receives a disgusted groan from the younger, but he doesn't fight the gesture, just instead deflates entirely.

    "Shower, please?" Antoine weakly croaks as he lifts an arm, one that was comparable to jelly at the moment, towards where the showers were located behind them: "We have practice soon and we can't go on the pitch smelling like sex."

    "Once again: I don't mind."

    "You're disgusting."

    "I don't care."

    "I hate you."

    "You love me."

    Antoine groans once more, this time in defeat, as he allows the elder to lift him weakly into his arms to transport him toward the showers. Sweaty palms rest flat against the wall, eyes fluttering to a content close, once the water begins to pound him. Olivier is somewhere behind him, hands at his waist, thumbs pressing into the skin of his hips.

    And, as much as he detested being smeared with cum, he had to admit that he did love him. Even if it were in the most peculiar of ways.

**Author's Note:**

> holla at a sista @ slaystegen on tumblr. we can talk everything, i literally don't mind :p
> 
> never wrote little man with anyone other than freckles, so lemme know how i did? 
> 
> (( feed my ego. i'm kidding. i'm not. maybe? ))


End file.
